Pain
by rain12710
Summary: There were two times in her life where Wanda Maximoff felt pain. Not the usual kind, she felt that everyday. No, excruciating, gut-wrenching, soul-crushing agony is what almost killed her. Twice. *Two-Shot*
1. I

Now the night is coming to an end,  
The sun will rise and we will try again.

Stay alive, stay alive for me.  
You will die, but now your life is free,  
Take pride in what is sure to die.

I will fear the night again,  
I hope I'm not my only friend.

Stay alive, stay alive for me.  
You will die, but now your life is free,  
Take pride in what is sure to die.

~Truce, twenty one pilots

 _ **Pain**_

There were some days where Wanda wanted to give up. To somehow kill herself, to end this nightmare. There were some days when she was in so much pain that she didn't have to think about killing herself, some when she thought that she really was dead. She could hear Pietro's screams, her younger brother's screams. Two minutes, but that made no difference when it came to sibling love. Even if he protected her like he was years older, even if he usually said that he was twelve minutes older, even if she could do nothing about his pain, she still wanted it to stop. Just like hers. Hers was like she was being frozen and burned at the same time. Hers was like dying, again and again and again. She wanted to protect her little brother, who was bigger than her, but if his pain was even half as bad as hers, she would be ready to kill her brother, just to put him out of his agony.

But there were some days, some days when she was happy to be in pain, happy because this was a good cause, it had given them a purpose, a reason to live, a reason which meant that they weren't useless, that being born, that wasn't a mistake. They were doing something what was helpful, that was not entirely useless. When she'd finally got her powers, it felt like a triumph, but the thing is they were still in cages, they couldn't actually do anything useful. But still, Strucker had given them purpose, not leaving them to be drug addicted low lives, like the majority of the cities adult population.

But what was the point of having a purpose, if your purpose was just to be locked in a cage, what was the point of having a purpose at all? What was the point of not being addicted to drugs, if you were couldn't even take painkillers because they could mess with the treatment, which meant that you could be in agony for days and days and days. What was the point of not being a low life, if you didn't have a life at all?

She could barely even speak to Pietro. Their cells were both soundproofed. Their cells were next to each other, so they couldn't even see each other, only when they were being led to their different procedures, when they had their separate training sessions. But she could still hear his screams.

Screams. There were so many screams.

She'd never heard him scream before. Not even cry. Not when the bombs hit when they were ten. Not when they got kicked out of the orphanage because they didn't have enough money to feed them. When they almost died of starvation or when he got pneumonia from sleeping rough. She cried. She cried her little heart out every time. But he, he was strong. Strong enough to be her rock, and strong enough for the both of them. Except now, he was screaming too.

She didn't know what the purpose of this was. He said he would make them powerful, but for what? Sure, to beat the American circus freaks, but in the long run? Would they be prisoners forever? Would they ever be free again? They didn't think of these things when they signed up. They didn't realise what they were getting in to. They were getting a roof over their heads, and power. They were so power hungry. They were so hungry for power that they didn't stop to think about the consequences. They wanted vengeance for their parents, a chance to get back at one of America's costumed heroes for killing their parents. They didn't know what they were getting in to, it was just an opportunity. An opportunity to get the opportunity to kill Tony Stark.

But was that ever going to happen? Were they going to get the chance to ever leave the facility? The chance to even talk to each other again? She loved her brother, but she had no idea what he'd even become. She knew he looked the same, she'd seen him being marched past. Except that his hair had grown a little longer. Quite a lot longer. He kept banging in to the walls of their cells as well. It was like he didn't have control.

She had control long before he did.

Eventually, they were allowed to see each other again. They'd been hurt just as badly, been in just as much pain as each other, but now they were together. She learnt about his powers, how he could run faster than a bullet, how he could have run away so many times, but he stayed for her. He learnt about hers, how she could manipulate minds and objects, so they could do what she wanted, be what she wanted them to be.

And they were still in cells and they still didn't see each other a lot, but they didn't want to kill themselves to end the pain anymore. They had a purpose now, they had missions, however small. They took down small targets for HYDRA. They knew that they were still just training really, but they were doing this stuff, getting ready for the American's when they came.

And they would come. They would come because it was HYDRA, and HYDRA hated the Americans, and the Americans hated them. Maybe they would kill them. Maybe they would be killed. But she would make sure that she showed Tony Stark his worst fears. His worst fears and then kill him. Kill him like he killed their parents.

Maybe it would be a year. Maybe two. Maybe more, maybe less. Maybe they wouldn't be able to kill him on the first try. Maybe they wouldn't be able to kill him on the second. But they would be on his radar. He would come back and find them. He would find them and try to kill them, but they'd kill him. He was nothing without the suit, but they were a speedster and a sorceress.

They were Scarlett Witch and Quicksilver.


	2. II

Yo, you, bulletproof in black like a funeral  
The world around us is burning but we're so cold  
It's the few, the proud, and the emotional  
~Fairly Local, twenty one pilots

 _ **Pain**_

"Didn't see that coming?" Was the last thing she heard on her communicator, the one that was tuned straight in to Pietro's. And then there was nothing. Not. Even. Breathing.

They'd had a connection recently, and at times knew what each other were feeling. They could tell when they were close to each other, but that connection had snapped. It was completely gone.

Wanda didn't need to be told that Pietro was gone. She could tell that he was dead. She could tell that he would never be back.

Pain. Agony. There was no word for how she felt. No word to describe how much this hurt. Pietro was everything to her. Everything and more. He was a shoulder to lean on at all times, no matter how bad things got.

He was the only thing that was constant in her entire life. The only person that had stayed with her forever and always. And now he was gone. Now he couldn't be her constant, because he couldn't move, couldn't breathe. His heart had stopped beating. Pietro, her brother, her baby brother, no matter how much he pretended otherwise, was dead.

She felt so much pain. It was like a part of her was gone. Not just a part of her, half of her. Because when they were children, they were inseparable. They did all that stupid stuff that twins do, dress similarly, finish each other's sentences. But now it looked like she was going to be left hanging.

He died quickly, so he couldn't be in too much pain. He couldn't have been. But he must have been in pain. From the bullet wounds. They must have been painful. Being ripped apart by metal. So much pain.

She felt the pain exploding from her in the form of a telekinetic wave, destroying every single Ultron-bot that was in the church, maybe all the one's outside too. It was just like all the emotion from her body had to be removed, so it could make room for all pain which needed to be felt.

Red was a good colour for her telekinesis to be. Fire, energy, war, danger, strength, power. But that wasn't just it. Red was such a deep colour, with so many connotations. Passion, desire, love. But most of all; Blood. Blood. The gallons of the stuff. The gallons of the stuff that were pouring out of Pietro's body. So much that it stained his suit, and the spots didn't stay as spots; they all joined together so it looked like the blue was the flecks of non-colouring, not the blood. The blood that was keeping him alive, and then killing him, as he no longer had it in him. If he'd somehow been able to retain the blood, he wouldn't have been dead.

Why couldn't he have run faster? Why the hell couldn't he have run faster? He was faster than a speeding bullet, he had proved that many times, so what was different this time? Was it that he'd already been running a while, because Wanda knew that he had the stamina of a bull. He never got tired. So what was wrong that meant that he didn't have the power to outrun those bullets?

Ashamed and angry. She had the slightest bit of shame and anger. They'd actually worked for Ultron. They'd followed his orders to destroy the Avengers all because of one vendetta against Tony Stark. If they'd just stayed out of this, sure the world might have ended, but he would be alive. He would be alive and she wouldn't be feeling this pain.

Why Pietro though? Why couldn't any of the others got there? Thor, The Vision, Stark, they could all fly, as well as War Machine and Falcon. They could have gotten Pietro. Any of the Avengers could have taken out the gun. Instead Pietro was gone and Wanda was going to find the Ultron that got Pietro and kill him.

She knew it was the main Ultron-Bot, he was in the plane, but got thrown out by the Hulk. He landed in a bus, or was it a train? It didn't matter, and Wanda couldn't tell. She was seeing red, literally. Red warped her vision as she saw him. The murderer. The man, not even man, that had killed her brother.

She didn't see the irony of it, but Tony Stark had taken another thing from her. His bomb took her parents, his robot took her brother.

But she didn't blame him. She had spoken to him now, albeit briefly, and he did genuinely want to do good in the world. He wanted to make sure no one got hurt. And in doing that he'd hurt a whole lot of people.

She hoped the others, the Avengers, would look after her. Pietro had always done that. He'd protected her, from the bullies at school to the bullets in battle.

Wanda walked up to Ultron and tried to demonstrate her pain. But she couldn't. She couldn't display that kind of loss.

She ripped his heart out, if you could call it a heart. It was just something keeping him alive, like a core, a battery. But she ripped it out, slowly, painfully, just like he'd ripped out hers. But it wasn't enough. He was laughing, not in pain. So as the world crumbled around her, Wanda stayed, not crying, like she would have done a few years ago, but angry, rageful and in pain, hoping that she could join her brother in death.

When The Vision set her gently on the helicarrier before flying off again, she was glad that he'd saved her. She was going to make her brother proud. Proud that she could continue and wouldn't crumple in a heap. Proud that he'd died saving a world that his sister could live in. Proud that his sister was an Avenger.

Yes, she was in a lot of pain, and most of it probably wasn't going to fade. Yes, she was an orphan, and had no living family. Yes, she didn't exactky know what to do without him. But she did feel some achievement, as she did just help save the world. But, she did have a brother, in her heart, and Avengers as honorary family. She was an Avenger

She was Scarlett Witch.


End file.
